


Madman With A Box

by PunkSuperWhoLockPrincess



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkSuperWhoLockPrincess/pseuds/PunkSuperWhoLockPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m so sorry.” And with those words, she turned and left.</p><p>“What are you going to do?” He called after her.</p><p>She shrugged. “What we’re all going to do, I suppose. I’m going to die.”</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted a version of this story on my Quotev account, but I decided to continue it on here. If you've seen the story before don't worry, it's still me.

“Doctor.” She stared at him, taking in this new face. It seemed that he had a different face nearly every time she saw him, from the distinguished old man to the madman with the scarf to the young one with the pretty face. He looked aged now, and tired. She smiled sadly. “What happened to non-violence?”

“That was a different man.” He sighed. “This war is no place for a Doctor.”

“So this is it.” She sighed, smoothing the scarlet fabric of her robes. “You know what you have to do?”

The Doctor nodded, sighing sadly. “The Moment.”

She shivered involuntarily, nodding slowly. “I’m so sorry.” And with those words, she turned and left.

“What are you going to do?” He called after her.

She shrugged. “What we’re all going to do, I suppose. I’m going to die.”


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Georgia, United States, 2014

My name is Victoria Grace, and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.

I had a pretty normal childhood. I went to school, made friends, joined the Drama club and the dance team. I took advanced classes and made As and Bs. I probably could have done better, but I got bored easily and zoned out a lot. I had some close friends, but none of us stayed close after we graduated. I took Cosmetology in high school, and got a job as a hair stylist a couple of months after graduation. I didn’t plan on doing hair for a living, but I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do yet.

At twenty-five, I still hadn’t decided. I was still working in a salon, living in an apartment on my own, and spending my weekends parked on the couch with Netflix and a carton of Ben n’ Jerry’s. I had taken online pre-college classes in Physics, Literature, and Music Theory, but I hadn’t decided to pursue a degree in any of them. My cousin, Jesse, liked to say that I was living in a “constant state of Existential Crisis.” My dad just said that I was a smart girl who didn’t know what to do with herself.

It was another Tuesday afternoon, and I was incredibly bored. I had spent the last hour dying the bottom layer of some scene girl’s hair blue. I cleaned up my station and waved goodbye to my boss, Clarisse. Clarisse smiled, waving her hair-dryer in my direction. I grabbed my leather jacket and my car keys and made my way out to my VW beetle, looking forward to a long, hot shower and a goodnight’s sleep.

I spent the ten minute drive home listening to an old Fall Out Boy CD and singing along under my breath. I was just turning into my driveway when It happened. The Incident. The Event that would change my life forever.

A blue box appeared in my driveway, right in the path of my car.

I screamed, yanking the steering wheel violently to the left. My car swerved off the driveway just before it would have crashed into the box. I was jerked forward as the front wheels left the pavement and sank into the mud, my head banging against the steering wheel. As my vision started to go fuzzy, all I could hear was the song still playing out of my car radio. 

“When I wake up, I’m willing to take my chances on the hope I forget, that you hate him more than you notice. I wrote this for you…”

I saw black spots clouding my vision, heard someone yelling and banging on the car window. The sounds seemed to be coming from very far away, and all I could hear was the song, playing next to my face as my vision went totally black.

“You need him. I could be him. I could be an accident, but I’m still trying. That’s more than I can say for him…”

And then there was nothing.


End file.
